Anything Goes
by proflig8
Summary: Adventures of the Courier and Boone as they gather up companions, ally the Mojave, and find the man who tried to kill her. f!Courier/Boone.
1. My Heart Goes Boom Boom Boom

"You're really putting aside time to take care of this?"

The Courier turned her armored head to the side, looking right past Boone. Not that anybody could tell with that mercenary armor covering every inch of her body. Instead of her companion, she focused on the nearby Boomer and asked, "Pardon?"

Dismissing her inanely profuse politeness, the sniper said, "Very funny." He took this as indirect sarcasm, or something; he seldom spoke, so she must have been poking fun at that by mistaking the voice addressing her for somebody else.

"I'm sorry, Boone. Could you repeat that? I didn't know it was you the first time," she explained honestly, pulling up the loose gloves that had nearly slipped off of her fingers once again.

"What, is all that metal deflecting sound from getting in?"

"And have you been hanging around Raul too much while I'm away from the suite?" she countered, referencing his sarcasm. No, he wanted to answer, he was sarcastic most of the time. Gloves back in position, she straightened up and focused on the older traveler. "But really, what?" He could hear the friendly smile in her voice.

Well, now that he was put on the spot, and had to _repeat _it, for God's sake, he didn't feel so talkative anymore. "What you just agreed to do. Help the kid meet that woman at Crimson Caravan." The Courier didn't speak, waiting for elaboration. "Isn't it a little … insignificant? We arrived the Strip weeks ago, and now we're wasting time with idle pursuits."

Though he wasn't one-hundred percent sure, he figured the Courier was giving him a long and hard stare. She jerked her head towards the hangar door exit and led the way.

"This going to be a problem, Boone? Mr. Plaid ain't smart enough to leave—he didn't make sure I was dead. Exploring Vegas more thoroughly can wait."

She had some kind of skewed point, but he still believed that the guy should have been gunned down ages ago. Although her words seemed to have ended the conversation (high tendency of that happening, really—she was in charge, he was just along for the ride), he wanted to have the last, usual critical words.

"We ran through explosive artillery … to play Cupid."

The Courier chuckled lightly, pace slowing a little as she un-holstered her sniper rifle, aligned her eye with the scope, and fired of a shot at a nearby fiend. Unfortunate fellow thought he'd be making it out alive on Boomer grounds with _her_ here? Boone only took pity on his stupidity.

"You never know, Boone. It might just help us out in the end."

* * *

"Here you go, darlin'. Jack prepared this Boomer uniform for you so you can safely trek across the field without getting a mouth full'a fire." The look of pure delight did not vanish when the pretty red head skipped off to find her could-be lover, half-stripping as she ran so she wasted as little time as possible with changing.

The Courier put her hands on her hips and let out a satisfied sigh. "A little rash, the two of them jumpin' to love when they've only seen each other a few times without speaking—but I think they'll be just fine."

She was talking to herself more than Boone, and he knew this, so he didn't respond, but acknowledged her words with an inclination of his head.

A silence stretched onwards as the Courier's eyes scanned the horizon. "Alright," she said suddenly but softly. "Let's head back to the Strip. I want to check up on the King on the way there, however."

She and the King had grown to trust each other. He always had a few of his gang scattered around Freeside, and because of this, he knew she was coming before she actually arrived. He'd send her a stimpack or some caps to help her out—just a reminder that everything she'd done so far, for both the Kings and Freeside in general, was much obliged.

Boone wondered if she had taken his advice to actually _get a move on_. If so, then thank heavens. He wasn't quite sure why he worried so much about getting there in time; Plaid-boy could have left two nights ago, one week ago, or _two weeks ago_ for all they knew. Maybe he had a stealth boy. Or _maybe _he's planning another attack on the Courier.

"Oh," she murmured, noticing her Pip-Boy still had some marks on the screen. "Wait a minute, that reminds me. The Boomers still need help with something. They say it's gotta do with something real important, an', well …" Curiously, she didn't make a move to do anything, sniper rifle still cradled in her arms but her movements inert.

"And?" he prompted and cocked an eyebrow, unseen under the red of his beret.

She looked as if she was hesitating, but then quickly snapped out of it and nodded. "And being fully allied with the Boomers would really help in the end. C'mon, let's go see what Loyal wants."

So much for going back to Vegas.

* * *

His female companion was stripping out of her reinforced combat armor so it wouldn't rust. He sort of admired her dedication to keep her belongings as safe and fresh as she could, even though it seemed like a waste of time occasionally. In the usual undershirt and wear, she picked up the item she had gotten from Jack that could help her with retrieving the crashed B-29.

Her hair looked dirty when she pulled off her helmet and her eyebrows were far from thin and womanly, but then again, everybody shared the same fate. She looked at the water and tried to fluff out the clumped locks to make them look somewhat decent, even if she was just about to get them wet. "Definitely need to stop back in Vegas …" Mr. House gave her an entire suite, but Boone was convinced that the Courier's favorite section of it was the bathrooms. He provided shampoo, after all, and that was a rarity—hence her dreary sigh.

"Are you sure you can trust that thing?" the sniper asked, peering over at the Courier, who was snapping the clasps shut on the hand-crafted rebreather.

"I'm the one that suggested how to make it," she pointed out, voice muffled. "I know how it works."

Her skills with science were generally reliable, but honestly, he wouldn't trust her ability when it looked like _that_. Maybe it was because he'd never used one before, but the idea that a thin sheet of plexiglass was the only thing separating you from sucking in a mouthful of water and drowning, well, wasn't very appealing to him.

"Stay on guard," she told him, "I wont be long."

That was that. She gazed at the water again and stepped in, testing its temperature and radiation level. Everything was fine, because she descended the rest of the way and out of sight in just a few seconds.

Boone did as he was told and scouted the area for any possible threats. He expected her to be back in a minute or two, but as time stretched on, he wondered if she encountered a problem. Each minute had him honestly getting more and more tense. It wasn't that it was a tragic loss if she died, but she was still his companion and had offered to keep him housed, sheltered, fed, and so on as long as he was with her. She was strong, kind, got things done (even if they were _small _and seemingly insignificant things), and had his back like she had hers.

When the tenth minute reached its close, Boone was peeling off his white shirt, deciding that it had been long enough. He didn't have a rebreather, but he could open his eyes under water, and therefore see if the Courier just needed a bit more time, or … ended with a different fate.

Just as he was about to step foot in, the woman resurfaced and yanked her rebreather off. She let in a handful of non-recycled air and tossed the mask towards her folded clothes on the ground by the shore.

Arching an eyebrow, there was an awkward beat of silence. Her eyes flickered from the top of Boone, to the bottom, back up to the top as she met his unshaded eyes.

"So … coming in for a swim? The water's nice, I don't blame you." It would have been a truthful invitation if not for the sarcastic and somewhat irritating grin that stretched on her lips.

"Quiet, Courier. I figured you needed some help, taking so long like that."

"Nope, I got it. Thanks anyway, though." Unfortunately, her voice totally betrayed that—she knew he had actually been concerned and it still left that coy smile on her face. Her attention was then dropped from the sniper, and she trudged back up onto solid ground. Yanking up a towel she brought for this mission, borrowed from the Boomers, she dried herself off and began to put her armor back on.

She pulled out the detonator and got into the zone, pulled the trigger fearlessly, and admirably watched as the plane rose up to the top of the water.

Before they began their journey back to the Boomers' base, she slapped his back in a friendly manner. "And done. That wasn't so hard. Once we tell them we're done, we're going to head back to the Strip. Sound good?"

When did she start asking him for his opinion? Anyhow, it didn't matter. He nodded his head, and they began their trip back once again.


	2. I Got Spurs That Jingle, Jangle, Jingle

"Good to see you again, doll," the King greeted, straightening up in his seat a little bit when the Courier took a seat across from Pacer and next to the King himself. "Things have been a lot better here with what you've done."

"I think it just might get better. Julie Farkas says that there's a man in Jacobstown that can help fix Rex," she informed, fingers laced together. Her helmet was on her lap; Boone depicted that whenever she wasn't wearing her helmet, she was showing a sign of respect. He also remembered her telling someone once that she preferred to look somebody in the eyes, hence why she was always uneasy about Mr. House.

The King frowned, albeit being pleased. "She said what? Why didn't she just say so when I was down there? Actually, come to think of it, I was pretty angry when I went down there. I vaguely recall something about upending a few tables, maybe knocking out one of her doctors. Anyway, that's incredible news!"

The Courier couldn't help but laugh at that. The King looked so happy! No bond like a dog and his master, apparently.

"Only thing is, there's too much going on around here for me to take a trip like that, and I need all of my guys just to keep things settled here." Then, something shone in his eyes. He leaned forward a bit over the table. "You seem awfully interested in my boy Rex here. And you've done some good work for me already. I'll tell you what. You promise to get Rexie here to that doctor, and I'll lend him to you. What do you say?"

"Sounds great. We're gonna rest up for a day or two in Vegas, then get on that right away."

He sighed gratefully, eyes a little worn and dreary, but still filled with life knowing that his friend was going to be okay. "I can't thank you enough. Now, there's a few things you should know about ol' Rex here if you're going to be traveling together."

At that, Rex's ear perked up. He rested his head on the King's leg and listened as his master gave a run-down of what the Courier should expect.

Hats. The female traveler bit back a grin and glanced back at Boone, who was wearing his beret, as usual. Rex had been eying him up, too.

"I wish you both luck. Take care of my Rex now, y'hear?"

The Courier lingered a moment, locking eyes with the enigmatic King. Boone almost rolled his eyes; the woman had it _bad _for him. Though it seemed so much like a celebrity crush, like if she said the wrong thing, everything would crumble. When the King broke contact, he went to looking over at his dog and explaining that he was to follow the Courier now. She also looked away, seemingly embarrassed, and quickly put her helmet back on.

"Thanks again, doll. Good luck."

She nodded and gestured for Rex. "C'mere, Rex. Let's go. See you around, King."

* * *

"Home sweet home."

Boone considered her proclamation. The presidential sweet _was _big enough to house nearly nine people, more if you liked limited space, and had enough replenishing assets to live there. He left Novac for good, and he was with her until she wanted him to leave, she considered this home, so, yeah … this was for him too, he supposed.

And so he felt as anyone would when entering their home after a long journey of travel. Rex immediately went on to explore while the Courier went to her master bedroom to drop of her supplies and get a towel and such for showering, Boone ventured off to the guest bedroom to do the same, seeing as there were multiple showers. She slipped in the washroom before Boone did, towel wrapped around her, and she nabbed the first stall before hanging the towel over the door.

Soon after, she heard her sniping companion do the same, but she didn't focus much on him, but rather the steaming hot water that poured out of the shower head …

Those twenty minutes in the shower were completely worth it. Boone had left around ten minutes ago, not needing as long of a shower as she did. The Courier had a razor she had constructed and was using it to shave her legs, underarms, and other places where hair was becoming a nuisance. She lathered her entire body with the soap provided, used shampoo to clean her knotted and messy hair, and eventually ended the shower with a sigh of contentment.

In her bedroom, she sifted through her wardrobe and pulled out a Pre-War outfit, relaxedwear, that was a soothing pink dress, with matching heels. "I knew this would be useful sometime." She had a plan for tonight, and it was flawless.

Mr. House was so kind as to provide make-up (they were terrible brands, had parts missing, and had the occasional spot of dirt, but it was useable nonetheless), which she put on carefully; she'd be damned if she ever wore this stuff another time. This was a one-time thing.

Her hair dried on its own, but she brushed it back in a way that was popular now among the beauties of the Strip. In the kitchen, she sifted through the equipment around her work bench to find something that could be converted into a pair of tweezers. Fortunately, she did just that with scraps of metal she had been collecting by heating them up with the stove and smoothing it out with a compressor on the table.

"Hey boss, you look even smoother than normal. What's the deal?" Raul inquired, stopped at the kitchen entryway and peering at her curiously.

"Goin' out tonight."

"No armor?"

"Wont need it."

He watched her for a moment longer and decided that she could handle herself, whatever she planned on doing. Gambling, maybe? Going to the Ultra-Luxe to dine, perhaps? No matter, Raul knew she'd be okay.

The Courier brought the tweezers back to her room and carefully started to pluck away her too-thick eyebrows into a feminine, arched strip. Hell, she wasn't a very womanly person, but after getting all dolled up like this, she felt … pretty. That never happened, not even before she was shot in the head.

Eventually, she was done with everything. She even spun a bit in the mirror to check herself out, decided she was satisfied, and headed towards the elevator.

She caught sight of the sniper just leaving the guest bedroom, eyebrows up in surprise. "Who—oh, Courier."

"Were you just about to ask who I was?" she asked in astonishment, although she couldn't be offended. Not with how repulsive she looked before. But that's why armor was so great! Cover up all that ugly. "I'm going out to find Plaid-man. Mr. House says he's at the casino over there, and it shouldn't be a problem getting him to talk. Trust me on this one."

"By yourself?"

She placed her hands on her hips. "Does it look like anybody's coming with me?"

"It does now." In a few strides he was by her side. Before she could argue, he said, "I wont be next to you, I'll just be in the area. He shot you in the head, Courier. He'll do it again."

"He wont have the chance," she seethed.

"Damn right he wont," he agreed. Although, that came from the fact that she wouldn't be hurt as long as he was in the vicinity. Boone almost couldn't believe that she thought she was just going to march up to the guy, get information, and then slaughter him on spot when he probably had a group of bodyguards or something. He wanted to call her foolish, but he knew that she probably could have pulled it off. Ah, well. Better safe than sorry.

She lifted up the hem of her dress to show the sniper. "Look," she started, although instinctively he glanced the other way. "No, Boone, I'm not flashing you."

Reassured, he saw that there was a strap around her thigh that held a combat knife and a plasma mine. "So you weren't going unarmed."

"No. I guess it'll be safer with you there, but still. I need him to think that I'm unarmed and innocent."

Boone let out one dry laugh. "You're far from either of those."

"He doesn't know that! Come on, in the elevator."

* * *

"What in the goddamn …?" Benny's eyes were wide with surprise and hints of fear. "Let's keep this in the groove, hey? Smooth moves. Smooth …" he consoled himself. "Hello! That broad everyone saw go into the Lucky 38, that was you? Shit."

Now the fun could commence.

"When you shot me, you ran off so fast I never got your name."

It took a small silence for Benny to register that. "You making a pass at me, sister? Because I'm out of your league."

"Aww, is it wrong for me to want a guy who'd shoot me in the head?" She slowly stepped forward, heel clicking lightly, eyelids half open. An eyebrow was cocked seductively, but the man just stared at her in disbelief.

"Did those bullets scramble your egg? Or have you always been a naughty broad …?"

She shrugged, smiling. "Girls like bad boys. And you've been downright awful," she purred. The man didn't even notice her hand trailing up his chest and lightly grasping onto his tie, but hell, it sure was working. She saw the flush around his neck and ears, the signs of him giving in …

Boone, watching through his scope, couldn't believe what the hell that Courier was doing. She was … she was seducing the man? Definitely not the way he would have done it, but it was apparently working, and if it all turned out well in the end, then maybe it'd be fine. He couldn't help but wonder if she was actually going to sleep with him or kill him before he had the chance to get his grubby hands on her.

"You're one sick pussycat, baby. There's quins and then there's … I don't even know what to call you."

"I'm saying I dig you, despite it all. What do you say?"

He let out a strained laugh. "I hear 'dig' from you, babe, and all I can think of is a shovel. How can this be? This ain't forgiveness, it's something … wrong."

And now it was time for the pun she'd been waiting to use. "I'm a courier, remember? Don't you want me to handle your package?" As corny as it might have been, it had a powerful effect on Benny, and he shook his head and shrugged.

"All right, honey baby, this is all kinds of wrong, but to my suite it is. Thirteenth floor. Don't keep me waiting."

Hook, line, and sinker. The Courier knew this was going to be easy, but damn. His guards were warning her not to pull any sudden moves, obviously smarter men than the checkered guy himself. Coyly, she waved to Benny and sauntered up the stairs and out of his view. She sighed. Benny really was dumb if he fell for all of that, but hey. Maybe it was all the added effort of hair, make-up, no-unwanted hair, and so on.

The Courier slowly unlocked the suite and ventured inside, smirk on her lips. She found his bedroom easily and leaned against the wall, waiting for the eager footsteps that were soon thumping through the halls.

"Benny is gonna show you the Tops! I hope you're built sturdy, you crazy broad!"

"Oh, you bet I am," she murmured, grabbing for his tie again and slamming him down on the bed. She crawled on top of him and kissed him with as much passion as she could muster for a guy that blew a hole in her brains, so to speak. The dominance was to Benny's liking, for he let a contented moan that reverberated through the kiss.

He was rubbing his hands along her back, moving down to the small of her back to around her ass, and yanked her closer. She didn't particularly like being handled by that, especially by this scumbag.

She lifted his chin up with one hand and continued to press her lips to his in successive meetings, one after another, and while that distracted him, un-holstered her combat knife with the other. When her warm lips left his, he felt the stark cold against his neck.

"Ah, shit."

"You're a foolish man, Benny." Still on top with the blade so close to his skin it almost made him bleed already, she felt him growing hard underneath her. "Like the power trip, do you? You like the control I have?" She ground against him once, eliciting a choked mutter, his containment of a groan.

"Crazy broad. Don't kill me, I can help you out. I have information."

"You've actually got nothing I don't already know," she said, pressing the flat side of the knife against him harder. He writhed a bit against the comforter and she saw the level of fear increase. It was written all over his face.

"Please, Courier."

She was not a sadist. She was also not a murderer when she didn't have to be, nor was she one to carry around a grudge. It was anticipated that she would back out, but it was okay. "Where's the Platinum Chip?"

"Gave it to one of my guards. You didn't think I'd bring it with me while we get it on, did you, honey baby?"

"No. So you're not so dumb after all. Where's your guard?"

"Don't know. Told him to get the hell out of here, wherever he wants, just to make sure that you don't find out. I'm sure he and I will meet up sometime soon enough."

She pressed the knife closer, then pulled it away and slid it back in the slot around her thigh, then crawled off of him. He heaved a heavy sigh of relief, nodding to the Courier with his eyebrows pulled back. "Thank you."

And with that, he was out of there before she could say anything more. Damn her and her morals, sometimes.


	3. All Shook Up

The woman had been straightening out her clothing and thigh-strap when the sudden thought struck her: Boone had no idea what her plan was. More importantly, he didn't know that she'd be _letting Benny go_.

"Oh, _shit_!" she cursed, swinging the door open haphazardly and running down the halls as fast as she could. Heels clicked rapidly against the surface of the curved stairwell, reverberating around the casino for all to hear. Curious faces turned to look at the Courier, but she paid no mind to them. Glancing around, only searching for the familiar red beret, she came up empty, and figured that the chairman and the sniper were elsewhere.

The warm air gently whirled her hair back when she exited the casino. It was prime time—moon out, bright lights, drunk NCR rangers, and the usual hustle and bustle of a good night.

Comments like "Hey, doll" and "What's a pretty lady like you doing by herself?" were somewhere around her from a few men. They were, unfortunately for them, ignored, and she absconded along without giving them more than a blink. Again, it felt strange to be _looked _at, like an actual lady, but she was back in serious business mode in making sure that Benny didn't find himself at the end of Boone's sniper rifle.

Then she saw them. Her eyes picked out the red beret of her companion trailing Benny at a substantial distance so he wouldn't be accused of following him. The Courier knew what Boone was going to do before it even happened: go after him until he's out of the Strip, whip out his gun, and snipe the poor guy right in the head where Freeside would nearly dismiss it as an everyday thing.

The Courier hurried once again until she was a safe distance away from her sniper, but still close enough so she could get a good look.

Just as they were leaving the gate to the Strip, she saw Boone reach back slowly for his rifle. As he held the scope up to his eye, the next thing he felt was a heavy weight on his back with the Courier's arms around his neck. "Boone, stop!" she whispered fiercely.

"Move along, citizen," the securitron ordered per usual, unaware of the situation.

"What the hell …?" he grunted in return, staggering a little before shoving her off. Her eyes were filled with such a passion that he was undertaken for a moment. Eventually, he noted, "So, you're alive, then."

"_Yes_, I'm alive!" she returned, aghast, gaze still locked on the blissfully ignorant chairman that was on his way outta here.

Boone stared at her a few moments before his eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and disappointment. "So you slept with him, and then let him walk free? At least you have the Platinum chip." No reply. "_Right_?"

"No. He didn't have it." She jerked her head back towards the gate, an obvious unspoken order that he actually thought twice about obeying. The woman liked to speak while on the move, otherwise she got antsy or uncomfortable (especially under the gaze of someone as cold as Boone). "Let's _go_," she pressed.

The woman was polite as hell, wore a kind smile, and was usually pretty lenient. She was definitely upset about this. One thing's for sure, she didn't look as pretty when she was angry.

He followed.

"I didn't sleep with him. I lulled him into a false sense of security, just like I told you I would. I made out with him to relax him a bit, and then he got caught up in the moment. He felt my combat knife pressed up against his jugular and realized what deep shit he was in," she explained a little too bitterly. So she was a bit self-conscious about his opinion; she couldn't help it. He was one of her companions and if he didn't approve, other people didn't, and her actions really didn't seem worth it.

Right now, with her smooth lips, arched eyebrows, outlined and sparkling eyes, and soft-looking complexion, he could barely take her seriously when she stated she had nearly cut his throat open. She didn't look like his strong superior anymore that took names and didn't put up with the bullshit happenings occurring in the Mojave on a daily basis at the moment …

"But you let him free. You let the man that nearly _killed _you walk free." Boone shook his head. "I don't get you."

"Not asking you to understand. Just let me handle things the way I wish. All I ask from you is to watch my back and stay loyal."

The sniper didn't say anything further, but the Courier knew he had heard her loud and clear.

* * *

About an hour had passed since Benny almost got a hole in his head.

The Courier washed the make-up off of her face and changed into a nightgown, still enjoying the leisure of the Lucky 38 presidential suite before they left sometime tomorrow to travel onwards to help the cyberdog in her possession.

Said animal had found a nice place on the floor, enjoying the cleanliness, apparently, and curiously watched the Courier as she moved around the room. She found Rex to be incredibly cute, and wondered how well he'd be in combat. If she took Boone with her, which she wasn't sure about yet, the two would make a good back-up team. Boone was ranged, Rex got up close, and the Courier herself was a little bit of both.

She wasn't feeling particularly satisfied with how their conversation ended earlier. It was too open-ended, too much room for interpretation. She looked back on her tone of voice, posture, look, and realized that she probably was portrayed as a downright bitch.

Knocking softly on the guest bedroom door as to not wake up Raul (if he was asleep, she wasn't sure), she glanced over at the ever-smiling Victor. The door opened to reveal a slightly disheveled Boone.

"Did I wake you?"

Back to her old behavior. Knowing that she had cooled down a bit, he shook his head. "No."

There was a small interval of silence. "I'm sorry for earlier. I know that what I did must have seemed incredibly stupid, but I had a … a feeling. Guess I thought with my heart instead of my brain. Not to say I feel much compassion for him, or anything. But when the time came, I just couldn't kill him."

"It's fine."

She looked like she wanted to add more, mouth slightly agape, but it eventually clamped shut and she averted her eyes. "Well. Tomorrow we're headed to Jacobstown. Up for it?"

"Sure."

With that, the conversation was over. She straightened up and nodded to him, then ventured back to the confines of her room. Tired as she was, she wasn't sure she'd be getting much sleep.


End file.
